Surprise
by Nefhiriel
Summary: PostROTK Vignette. Arwen is pregnant. Excited, and highly emotional, she tries to give Aragorn a few hints. Exhausted, and completely oblivious, Aragorn’s just trying to stay awake. Watch the results. New section: Eowyn breaks her own news to Faramir.
1. Surprise

**Surprise**

_**By Nefhiriel**_

**Rating: **G

**Genre: **Humor/Romance

**Summary: **_Post-ROTK vignette. _Arwen is pregnant. Excited, and highly emotional, she tries to give Aragorn a few hints. Exhausted, and completely oblivious, Aragorn's just trying to stay awake. Watch the results.

**A/N: **-dodges flying objects-I know, I know…I said the next thing I'd post would be the sequel to _The Wrong One_. I don't know how many people are still holding their breath for it (hmm, I see a few of you are turning blue…), but I give you my word: I have NOT given up on it. Really. For the last couple of months I've been busy packing/settling into the new house, so I really didn't have the energy to write at all. At the moment, though, I have quite a bit of time to write…but I can only access the internet on my dad's computer :-P Anyways, I had sudden inspiration for this vignette, so I just had to share it.

Enjoy!

Oh, and please excuse me if my responses are brief, non-existent, or long in coming…I'll have to see how things go ;-)

* * *

One more moment of this and he would go mad.

Aragorn shifted restlessly in his chair for the fifth time in the last two minutes. Next to him, one of his more daring advisors cleared his throat quietly and shot him a meaningful sideways glance. He resisted the very unkingly urge to groan.

A few of his advisors would be paying for this with their heads.

Usually he had some sort of warning before they crammed him into one of these stuffy rooms, to have an equally stuffy meeting with an impossible-to-please ambassador from Eru-knows-where. This time, he had not been so fortunate, and had not even heard of his fate until moments before they locked him up with the mad-man. Even then he had tried, but there was no hope for escape.

"Still, I tell you, it was cruel of you – cruel! – to have our room decorated in red and orange: the colors of our deadliest enemy!" the aforesaid ambassador ranted, refusing to let anyone take away the joy of raging about his misery. "If this was some kind of joke, I tell you, it was of the lowest kind! Unbefitting a country of your refinement! I would have expected such treatment from a more…barbaric people, but Gondor…"

And so it went on. Some were just too content to wallow in their own misery. Ambassador or no, Aragorn was nearly ready strangle the man and run. To Mordor with diplomacy, he could use a little excitement about now. Besides, he could always claim afterwards that it was self-defense…

A small nudge at his arm made him refocus on the dismal reality around him. He was just in time to catch the last few words the ambassador was saying.

"Well, I suppose all must be forgiven, even the most heinous insults. If Gondor asks for pardon…"

"Yes, I assure you, Gondor does offer a most heartfelt apology." Aragorn heroically managed a smile. "No insult was meant against you, or your people. You will excuse the…ah, color scheme of your quarters?"

The ambassador paused and sighed theatrically before finally nodding. "Yes-"

Not waiting for another speech, Aragorn hastily rose and bowed to the ambassador. "Good. I am glad that is settled, then." The ambassador had no idea just _how _glad. "You will excuse me, it has been a long day."

-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-

Arwen smiled as she surveyed the lavish meal set out on the table. Everything had to be perfect. She was determined nothing should spoil their evening. Tonight her surprise would put a sparkle into his tired eyes, and _nothing _would take that joy from her.

A baby.

Aragorn had wanted children for so long, and now she could finally give him one.

She tried picturing the look on his face when she told him the news, but knew that any vision she could conjure up wouldn't do his excitement justice.

Aragorn was a wonderful husband, and he'd make an even better father―if he didn't get their son or daughter killed before they reached their first birthday, that is. In many ways, he'd learned far too much from his brothers, and doubtless all their "training" would manifest itself in his parenting. She shook her head fondly at the thought of her brothers. Visits from Uncles Elladan and Elrohir would undoubtedly be her bane for years to come.

The sound of footsteps out in the hallway roused her from her reverie on the future. Her heart jumped as she recognized the soft footfall as Aragorn's. As the doorknob began to turn, she closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to quell her excitement. The last thing he needed after a hard day's work, was a wife pouncing on him the moment he opened the door. Give him a few minutes, start eating, drop a few hints…

The moment she got a good look at his face, she was relieved she hadn't sprung it on him. His weary blue eyes lit up faintly at the sight of her, but soon glazed over again with exhaustion. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, and adding to his already miserable appearance.

"It was rather a long day…" he said, as if he felt the need to apologize.

Arwen stepped towards him and took his arm. "Well, I'm going to have to have to have a talk with those advisors of yours if they keep sending my husband back in this condition." She gently leaned forward to kiss him. He returned the kiss tenderly, albeit tiredly, and allowed himself to be led over to his chair.

"Looks delicious." His voice slurred slightly, and his eyelids drooped.

She laughed. "Open your eyes, meleth-nín, and it will look even better."

Aragorn glanced up sheepishly at her, and reached for his spoon. But drinking soup and yawning simultaneously was proving difficult.

Arwen struggled to keep down a smile as she dipped her spoon into her own soup. After they'd exchanged a few monosyllabic sentences, she couldn't wait any longer to tell him. "Melleth-nín…I have some wonderful news for you."

"Really?" He looked up briefly at his beaming wife. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he tried to look interested.

"Yes," She paused excitedly. "soon we will have…a new member in our household."

Aragorn forced himself to sip some more of his soup. "Ah, so you finally found a new cook?"

Some of the light went out of Arwen's eyes, but Aragorn was too absorbed in the task of keeping awake to notice. "No, I haven't found a new cook. Please, Estel, I know this will be a surprise…but it's good one. A wonderful one."

Aragorn smiled faintly. _Eru, I don't think I can keep my eyes open much longer… _Aloud, he said pleasantly, "So, you mean to cook for us yourself, then? That _is _a pleasant surprise… You really are a wonderful cook. This soup is—"

"No." Arwen said quickly, an edge to her tone. She rose from the table and walked over to the window, valiantly keeping her temper in check. _Eru, I know he's tired, but sometimes he can be so obtuse… _Sighing, she tried again. "I won't be cooking, and I won't be getting a new cook, as I haven't fired our _present _one."

Aragorn frowned slightly, but then nodded and yawned, setting down his spoon. "Well, whatever you wish, my love. I'll be perfectly happy either way."

Arwen continued to gaze out the window. She took a deep breath, allowing the excitement to well up again. This time she would be so clear that even an abnormally dull-witted orc with half a brain could understand. Not that she would ever compare her husband to and orc of any kind, of _course_…

_Phrase it simply, _she reminded herself. _Just _tell _him_.

Silence rained for a moment, and then she said gently. "Meleth-nín, I know I'm being rather elusive, and I know you're tired, so I'll just tell you in as few words as possible. We're having a baby."

There was silence. She smiled, waiting for him to recover. But the silence continued—except for a gentle snoring sound. She spun around, and nearly cried with disappointment and exasperation. "_Aragorn_!"

Aragorn's head snapped up from where it had been lolling against his chest. He jumped up, his eyes focusing on Arwen: her eyes welling with tears. "Meleth-nín, what's wrong?" he asked in alarm.

Arwen glared at him. "You haven't been listening to a _word _I've been saying, have you!"

Bewildered, Aragorn stammered. "Of - of course, I have, Arwen…I've been listening to every word. Really, I-"

"No you haven't!" she nearly screamed at him. "You were _sleeping_!" She'd tried to be patient, oh she'd tried… But this—this was _too _much. She was tired of giving hints and trying to make this a special moment for him. He simply refused to pay attention.

Aragorn watched her, his face a mixture of terror and worry. "Arwen, my love… I'm sorry, I…" he tried to sooth her, but he still felt half-asleep, and the right words wouldn't come.

A few tears escaped her eyes. Suddenly, standing there watching Aragorn's tentative attempts to calm her, she felt ridiculous and irrational. But the embarrassment and emotional confusion that now flooded her, left her feeling weepier than ever. All she'd wanted to do was tell him… This was supposed to have been a wonderful night, full of joy, and now everything was ruined.

Seeing the fire die out of her eyes, Aragorn cautiously stepped towards her. "Arwen…I _am _sorry, my love. I wasn't listening." He cupped her face gently with one hand, wiping the tears from her face with the other. "Shh… Please don't cry."

Arwen couldn't help but smile through her tears. At times like this, however angry she might be, she couldn't help but remember exactly why she'd fallen in love with him. The tenderness in his eyes was enough to instantly consol her, and she allowed herself to be led over to her seat.

Aragorn sat down next to her. "Now, tell me."

"You promise you won't fall asleep this time?"

He smiled. "I promise."

And she smiled too. Now she had his full attention, she could make the moment as drawn-out as she wanted. Let him wonder for a few seconds. "I know this will be a surprise…But it's a very happy one. The happiest we could have hoped for."

"Now meleth-nín, if I promise not to fall asleep, you must promise not to torture me with suspense. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing to get so suspenseful about, your majesty… Fatherhood isn't so very dreadful."

Aragorn gaped. "Fatherhood?"

"Yes, _father_hood. Do you need a definition?"

"You're…that is…"

"_Yes_."

"We're going to have…"

"_Yes_."

The look of wonderment and joy that lit up Aragorn's face was exactly as she'd imagined. He took her hand and drew her towards him. Arwen smiled. Perhaps her surprise hadn't been ruined after all.

**

* * *

****The End**

_PLEASE_ let me know what you think! I absolutely _LOVE_ feedback! And I feel so lonely out here…-sniff-…in my new house…away from all my friends…-sniff- Ok, I'm through being pitiful -g-


	2. Perfectly Laid Plans

**Perfectly Laid Plans**

_**(Surprise continued…sort of)**_

**Rating: **G

**Genre: **Humor/Romance

**Summery: **_Post-ROTK. _This time it's Eowyn who's pregnant. Will she have better luck than Arwen surprising her own husband, the equally busy Steward of Gondor?

**See first section for disclaimer.**

**A/N: **Though I'm still having a hard time comprehending why such a short and uncomplicated piece as Surprise received _50_ reviews (certainly surprised _me—_thankyou!), it was really encouraging to know I could write satisfactorily in the humor/romance genre. Still in some disbelief over receiving so much positive feedback, I was glancing through my reviews the other day when a suggestion from one of you—Godrules—caught my attention: "…you should write one about Eowyn and Faramir too, that would be hysterical!" Thus this new addition. So thank you, Godrules, for the inspiration :-) Oh, and although the setting in this short piece is busy as well, it's not meant to take place directly after the first one, with Aragorn and Arwen ;-)

Without further ado, here's my latest stab at writing romance…

* * *

The moment Faramir was gone, Eowyn stole into the room. She slid into her husband's chair, eyeing his desk with raised eyebrows, and no small amount of pity. He certainly wasn't without work these days.

Layer upon layer of documents lay on the desk, in varying states of order—some stacked, some strewn haphazardly. Faramir was, on the whole, fastidious, but fulfilling the role of Steward of Gondor had just fallen short of brutal, lately. It wasn't that the King was pushing things off on him and sitting around sipping wine all day—she knew Aragorn was equally busy, if not _more_ so—but everything had been exceptionally hectic for both of them for over a week now. That meant Faramir was, almost literally, being buried under paperwork of all kinds.

In truth, she knew Aragorn probably had the harder end of the deal. He had to deal face-to-face with many of the perpetrators of the, at times, terribly frustrating letters. He had to reason with all these unreasonable people, bringing to him their unreasonable requests. Faramir still had to be diplomatic through some extremely trying problems. But at least he could roll his eyes in the safety of his room while "listening" to Lord-so-and-so complain about absolutely _nothing, _and absolutely _everything_. She didn't know how either of them could stand having to constantly go through all these political dealings and niceties. But both of them did it with dignity and aplomb, usually keeping their calm, and almost always a degree of politeness.

Gondor couldn't have been in two more capable sets of hands, in her opinion. Not that she was _biased_, by any means.

And now… And _now_, she had news for Faramir that could have brightened the gloomiest of days. She was pregnant with their first child. It would bring a sparkle to his tired eyes at last. It wasn't exactly the most opportune of times to do it, but there were no signs to indicate that life might settle down any time soon, and there was absolutely no _way_ she was going to wait indefinitely to tell him.

The only question was, _how_ she was going to go about telling him. There had to be some special, unique way she could do it. However, she had been forewarned. Arwen had already told Eowyn once, smiling with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, about her experience telling Aragorn of her own pregnancy. That caused Eowyn to pause in her own scheming.

Faramir and Aragorn were often so alike in personality, she could easily see herself trying to subtly surprise her husband with the news by hinting—and him behaving just as obliviously as Aragorn had. But she didn't much like the thought of just blatantly _saying_ it. That was more her personally—just coming right out and saying things—but it lacked the romantic touch in this particular case.

Faramir was going to be so surprised, so happy… He'd make a wonderful father. But how to tell him, without just marching up and saying, "Faramir, pay attention—we're having a baby."?

She didn't want to make the mistake of trying to tell him at night, either, when he was exhausted. However, that left her with telling him in the morning, or afternoon. Faramir was a man who liked to get up early, and work hard and long. Which meant there weren't very many pauses where she had opportunities to pull him aside and break the happy news to him over a romantic candle-lit meal. But she was not going to settle for either bluntness, or catching him while he was too tired to keep his eyes open, much less listen to her. It would be _this_ _morning_—and she had an idea.

Reaching across the desk for a blank piece of parchment, she took up a quill, dipped it in the ink-well, and considered her message. After a moment, grinning hugely, she scrawled: _What do you think about being father, my love? If you don't like the idea, it's a bit too late now._ Then, after blotting the ink, she considered its placement. Not right out in the open, but somewhere he'd find it relatively soon… She lifted several documents off the top of the stack he was currently working on, set her letter on the stack, and then replaced them.

She contemplated her work with satisfaction for a minute, then, hearing the returning footsteps of her husband, rose quickly from his chair and tried to look casually preoccupied at the window. It wasn't the first time she'd stayed to keep him company while he worked, and she wasn't expecting him to take much notice of her. Yet.

When she turned around to smile at him, he did glance up briefly, smiling wearily in return.

"You look tired, and it isn't noon yet. How are things going?" she inquired.

He gestured to his overflowing desk. "It seems like the moment I finish one thing, something else arrives to takes its place." He picked up the top document off the stack in front of him—the one Eowyn had hidden her letter in. "Eru, I swear, this pile's grown since I left the room…"

Eowyn turned away, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. Little did he know.

He soon became absorbed with the document he held, frowning over it, shrugging, and then setting it to the side. He picked up the second one—Eowyn's heart began to beat faster in anticipation—glanced at it, sighed, muttered, and set it to the side as well. Then he picked up her note.

If he'd looked in her direction at that moment, Eowyn knew her face would have given everything away. She waited. She waited some more. He was reading it, and taking a long time to do so. _It's only two sentences long, Faramir… _He was rubbing his temples, frowning as he had with the last two letters, as if he wasn't fully focused on what he was reading, or processing all the information. Obviously he wasn't in _this_ case.

Impatience marring her anticipation now, Eowyn had all she could do not to march over and read—_loudly_—over his shoulder. When, eyes drooping, Faramir made the move to deposit her letter on the pile with the previous documents, Eowyn's mouth automatically opened to protest. She closed it again just in time to stop herself. _Patience, patience, he's just a little tired. He'll notice in a moment. _Now she knew exactly how Arwen must have felt. _Keep your temper, Eowyn. _This supposedly brilliant plan of hers was turning out to be about as perfect as Arwen's had turned out to be.

Well…a little hint couldn't hurt.

"Anything interesting—dear?"

The glaze cleared from Faramir's eyes as he glanced up at her, clearing his throat. "Interesting? Oh…no. Nothing out of the ordinary." He still held her letter in his hand, not quite having made it to the discard pile yet, and he took a second glance at it. He looked back at her, then back at it a third time.

The surprise on his face more than made up for the delay. She regarded his shock smugly, waiting for him to stutter out the first words.

"Eowyn, this is...you mean…that is—you wrote this? We're going to…"

"…Have a baby?" she supplied.

He rose so quickly he almost knocked over his chair. "We're going to have a baby?"

"Well…I've _heard_ babies are often what follow pregnancy."

Faramir clasp her hands in his, excitement flowing through him like a current. This wasn't her bone-tired husband of but a second ago. As a matter of fact, she'd rarely seen Faramir looking this energetic, exhausted or not. "You're pregnant?"

"Well, I'm glad it didn't take _you_ as long as the King to catch a hint," she said wryly, but smiling just as widely.

"The…King?" Faramir asked blankly.

"Never mind. I'm just glad you noticed."

"Oh…I'm sorry it took me so long," he apologized sheepishly. "I was kind of dozing off, I didn't…"

She placed finger to his lips. "Hush. I know you're tired. Just tell me you're happy—that you want a child."

He laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace. "_Happy_? I'm overjoyed, I'm…_overwhelmed_. I can't tell you how happy I am."

"You'll make a wonderful father, Faramir."

"Ah, but not so _interesting_ a parent, I'll wager, as you," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"Are you insinuating I'll be the one to instigate mischief? _I'm_ the _mother_. Mothers don't encourage things like that," she corrected, not managing for a moment to look like she was even half serious.

He laughed again, pulling apart from her slightly to reach out and cup her chin tenderly. "I love you."

Eowyn just smiled, bursting with happiness to the point of overflowing at the thought of having a child of her own, and at seeing the visible proof mirrored on Faramir's face, expressing the same unbounded joy. She changed her mind there and then. Her plan might not have gone exactly according to what she might have considered perfect, but in the end, everything had turned out _perfectly_.

**

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**

**The End** (_but with more, possibly, to come…_)

Thank you again, everyone, for all those reviews that encouraged me to make additions on this vignette. If you like this second part, I'm considering doing at least one more, with Lothíriel springing the news on Eómer… -g- If you have the time, I would love to know your thoughts! –points readers oh-so-subtly in the direction of the review button-


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